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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131096">in a world where you are possible</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpeas/pseuds/lilpeas'>lilpeas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Amnesia, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:28:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpeas/pseuds/lilpeas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“You don’t believe me because you seriously think I’m too – I’m too good for you?” He manages to rasp out.</p>
  <p>This whole time Steve’s been assuming it’s because Billy is emotionally and mentally sixteen right now. Because of his denial, his disgust and self-hatred, his terror at being found out as gay, his assumption that Neil Hargrove is around every corner.</p>
  <p>Not <b><em>this.<em></em></em></b><em><em></em></em></p>
  <p>Billy crosses his arms again. “Yeah. I don’t believe you. You are way too out of my motherfucking league. I’m pretty sure Max just hired a model to fuck with me. Nobody looks that insane without getting paid for it. And you’re way too sweet, always caring ‘bout me and how I’m doing. You don’t even drop the act for a freaking second. Are you an actor as well?”</p>
</blockquote>After an accident, Billy loses his memories. He’s in denial that he’s married to Steve, but not for the reason Steve assumes.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>541</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in a world where you are possible</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dumping this here with no warning because I am sick of stressing over what time to post and when it best. I think I've just had a massive amount of free time and am being very active on here at the moment. I hope you are all keeping well!</p><p>I also begin a masters degree mid-September, but it's possibly the most stressful thing I've ever done, because it costs a lot of money and all my classes are online and I don't have a clue what I'm doing in any of them. This is my escape, if you will.</p><p>Anyways, this is the most random 6K I have ever made, but I loved the idea of Billy totally subverting Steve's expectations by being absolutely adamant that Steve is not dating Billy, because Steve is way too hot.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first couple of days aren’t so bad, really.</p><p>Billy moves around their apartment silently; touches everything as if cataloguing it all. He studies the furniture in quiet scrutiny. Frowns a lot at random moments as though puzzling over a math problem.</p><p>Steve’s hands twitch. He wants to ask if Billy’s feeling disorientated or dizzy, which Dr. Owens said might happen. But it passes and Billy’s face smoothes out, becomes its expressionless self once more.</p><p>He gives nothing away, even though Steve feels Billy’s eyes tracking his movements too. 

</p><p>He meets Billy’s gaze evenly, watches Billy right back until Billy drops his eyes (or flushes at being caught, or clears his throat, or pretends he was looking at something above Steve’s head).</p><p>Steve worries about Billy so much he gives himself a stomach ache.</p><p>He lies awake while Billy is down the hall. He checks on Billy religiously, creeps in just to make sure Billy’s still sleeping on his back with his neck-brace to avoid jostling his head.</p><p>He stays for longer than necessary to watch Billy sleep.</p><p>He tries not to look at the photos of them on the wall.</p><p>He doesn’t want Billy to see any sadness on Steve and misconstrue it as disappointment or frustration at the situation, at <em>him</em>. He knows Billy better than either one of his hands. He knows Billy will flee if he so much as catches a whiff of unhappiness from Steve.</p><p>They’re in the kitchen making breakfast one morning. Steve is spooning some instant coffee into a mug when Billy suddenly leans in close.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Steve blinks. He turns his head to find Billy closer than he’s been in three weeks.</p><p>Hope jumps up his throat; does Billy remember something?</p><p>Remember draping himself over Steve’s back and trapping Steve against the counter, remember fitting his chin over Steve’s shoulder, eyes still closed, half awake, a thoughtlessness to the act but something that didn’t need permission.</p><p>Does he remember Steve laughing at that act? Reaching up to pat Billy’s cheek or hold his arm or just <em>touch him</em> in some way?</p><p>“Hey.” Steve breathes.</p><p>“So, what.” Billy starts, expression serious, the full intensity of his gaze focused on Steve’s face. “You’re really into me then? You think I’m hot? I can feel you looking, ya’ know.”</p><p>Steve swallows the sour disappointment. “Of course, I’m into you, Billy.” He assures for what feels like the thousandth time. “You’re my husband.” He reminds, quietly, but adds, “If the looking bothers you though, I’ll try to stop.”</p><p>He goes back to his coffee.</p><p>“So if I just kissed you right now, you’d be fine with it?” Billy presses. He’s so close Steve can feel his heat, smell his distinctive scent.</p><p>Steve turns around again and tries for a smile. “I’d really like that. But I don’t want you to rush. The doctors said to take your time.”</p><p>Billy leans closer still, breath soft and hot. “You’d ‘<em>really like that’</em>? You want me to then?”</p><p>Steve can practically feel himself go dizzy. Three weeks of nothing. Absolutely nothing. No kisses, no touches, no embraces. Nothing of Billy.</p><p>It’s as though there’s a forcefield around him. As if he’s untouchable.</p><p>“Yeah.” Steve breathes out.</p><p>Billy bridges the gap. Just as Steve feels the barest brush against his closed mouth, Billy yanks back.</p><p>“Ha!” Billy laughs, loud and sharp. “I’m just messing with you. Sorry, amigo, but I ain’t a queer.”</p><p>Steve turns to his coffee, blinks quick to dispel the stinging sensation. “Cool.” He murmurs.</p><p>He remembers the Billy that existed before Steve: that cocksure, arrogant asshole that made fun of everyone and everything. That never let anything affect him, strutted around as if nothing ever would.</p><p>Remembers how Billy eventually told Steve softly one night it was all a cover-up. The anger, the arrogance, the everything.</p><p>It was a cover-up for his loneliness and his denial.</p><p>Remembers how Billy called himself bisexual for a full two years into their relationship because according to him, ‘<em>I can do stuff with women, yeah, it’s fun’</em>. That was until Steve prodded a little and discovered Billy’s idea of bisexuality and Steve’s idea of bisexuality were extremely fucking different.</p><p>Remembers this conversation:</p><p>“So, what did you do with girls before me?” Steve settled on top Billy’s chest.</p><p>Billy grimaced, but his eyes were shut. “Really? I was enjoying the afterglow there, Stevie.”</p><p>Steve lifted his head up a little in confusion. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You know what I mean.” Billy replied, voice even. “I’d just close my eyes and think of something else. Mind wanders, you know?”</p><p>“No, I don’t.” Steve frowned.</p><p>Billy huffed. “Girls are sweet, and you go through the motions cause it feels nice. But it’s not like <em>this</em>. It’s not like with guys. With guys it’s insane and you feel like you’re losing your mind. Can hardly think straight when I’m with you.” Billy stroked a finger down Steve’s nose, eyes still closed.</p><p>Steve smiled, but then he cupped Billy’s face. “Billy, it feels that way with girls too.”</p><p>Billy blinked his eyes open and looked at him.</p><p>“Why do you think guys foam at the mouth at the sight of a girl showing a little skin? Why do you think it’s all any guy can talk about, or <em>think</em> about? Girls are hot, baby. Girls can make you lose your mind.”</p><p>Billy stared. “You’ve felt that way?”</p><p>“Hell yes.” Steve said. “Not now, obviously.” He amended, because Billy’s features had gone tell-tale stiff and hard at the mention of Steve’s past relationships. “I honestly don’t want anybody like I want you, and never will.”</p><p>Billy flashed a toothy smile, childlike in its glee.</p><p>“But Billy, baby, high-school was pretty much an endless struggle to not fall at the feet of every girl that passed me by.” Steve chuckled.</p><p>Billy tilted his head on the pillow. “You having me on.”</p><p>Steve shakes his head with vehemence. “I swear. Scouts honour. When I was with girls, I was just as hot for them as when I was with a dude. Sure everything is different, but I’m always turned on. I’m never thinking of something else.”</p><p>“I don’t believe you.” Billy scoffed.</p><p>Steve cocked an eyebrow. “No?” He kissed his way down Billy’s chest and hovered above his bare hip. “So, if I was a <em>girl</em> right now, you would feel any different?”</p><p>Billy huffed. “I mean sure, it always feels good when girls do that. But when it’s <em>you</em>, it’s like – it’s different. It’s ten times better. If I’m with a girl I just shut my eyes and picture a hot guy. If I’m with <em>you</em>, all I need to do is look down. And it’s like your hands, your voice, even your smell is better. Everything is better with a guy.” Billy reasons, as if it’s fact.</p><p>Steve stared. “Billy, it doesn’t really sound like you were attracted to any of the girls.”</p><p>“But I liked it though. It was always fun.” Billy said with a frown. “That’s kinda attraction in a nutshell. Wouldn’t be able to get it up if I didn’t like it.”</p><p>“Yeah, <em>sex</em>. Having sex with somebody and being attracted to somebody is different. How do you feel when you look at a pretty girl?”</p><p>Billy shrugged, the motion made awkward because he was lying down. “I dunno, not really all that different.”</p><p>“What if she’s leaning close, or laughing at a joke, or smiling at you?” Steve insisted. “You know, she’s all up in your space?”</p><p>Billy widened his eyes. “I don’t feel <em>anything</em>, Steve, jeez. She’s just <em>close</em>. What am I meant to feel? If she’s kissing me and touching on me and whatever, it feels nice. But I don’t get anything from a chick <em>smiling</em>. It’s like one of your buddies smiling at ya. Or an old person.”</p><p>It clicked, finally. Slotted into place and became clear.</p><p>“Right.” Steve murmured. He crawled up Billy’s body and brought their faces close. “But what if it was me? Say we weren’t together. What if we just met? And I was leaning into you, laughing at what you were saying, and smiling at you?”</p><p>Billy’s eyes were wide as they gazed up at Steve.</p><p>“Oh.” He murmured, the word punched out.</p><p>“Or like when we first started dating.” Steve continued, because it was working. “I wasn’t touching you, but I was looking at you over dinner. Just looking. Nothing else.”</p><p>Billy’s mouth hung a little open. “Yeah.” He breathed. “Yeah. <em>Fuck</em>, that’s attraction?”</p><p>Steve nodded.</p><p>“And you’ve felt <em>that</em> for other girls?”</p><p>Steve nodded again.</p><p>“Damn. Guess I’m not bisexual.” Billy croaked a laugh, but Steve could hear how rough it was.</p><p>Steve kissed his nose. “Makes no difference to me.”</p><p>“No?” Billy asked, a forced casualness to his voice</p><p>“Been together a good couple years now, Billy.” Steve settled his face into the crook of Billy’s neck. “Don’t plan on leaving now.”</p><p>And right now, Steve watches Billy turn away and pour some cereal into a bowl.  </p><p>Watches his Billy, his <em>husband</em>, thirty years old and married to Steve for six of those years, with a little bit of stubble and a massively shorter mullet, with laughter lines around his eyes and his wedding band glinting around his neck, with light wrinkles lining his forehead and deep grooves in his palms from age –</p><p>And Steve sees the 16-year-old Billy, cocky and insecure and just a teenager. Just a kid.</p><p>His ears are red and his hand trembles a little, as if that one non-kiss has shaken him to the core when they’ve done it over a million times.</p><p>He’s still trying to hold the grin, as if Steve doesn’t see right through it.</p><p>Dr Owens told Steve to be patient. Told Steve that Billy might act strange, out of character, exhibit unusual behaviours and get spooked easily. Told Steve there’s no overnight cure for retrograde amnesia but surrounding Billy with his life, with <em>their</em> life, and letting him choose the pace is the only way to go.</p><p>He told Steve to be <em>patient</em>.</p><p>“I got no clue how I’m caught up in all this weird shit.” Billy laughs, waves a hand around to encompass their kitchen, their house, their life. “But I’m pretty sure I’m gonna wake up real soon. This is just some crazy fucking dream.”</p><p>“Like I said, I can show you the photos.” Steve tries, even though he knows it’s a lost cause. “I can show you our wedding video, it was a really beautiful –”</p><p>“Nah, I think I’m good.” Billy holds up his bowl and flashes a grin, but Steve knows Billy. He can see the stiffness to Billy’s shoulders. “Stick to one problem for now.”</p><p>*</p><p>When Billy woke up, Steve thought it was an act.</p><p>“Hey, baby.” Steve stroked a hand through his hair, watched his sleepy, slightly wrinkled eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.</p><p>“What the fuck.” Billy stated. His eyes roved all over Steve’s face while the heart monitor sped up at an alarmingly loud rate.</p><p>“Billy!” Max jumped up from chair on Billy’s other side. “Oh thank God, you’re awake.”</p><p>“Maxine?” Billy turned around and gaped. “What <em>the fuck?”</em></p><p>“Billy what’s wrong?” Max leaned over and took Billy’s hand. Billy stared down at it.</p><p>“When did you fuckin’ age? <em>Overnight?</em> And since when are we fucking <em>friendly?”</em></p><p>Max stared.</p><p>“Billy –” Steve murmured gently.</p><p>“And who the fuck are <em>you?”</em> Billy rounded his eyes on Steve.</p><p>Steve was silent. Max was silent.</p><p>They were both silent, stunned.</p><p>“I’m your husband.” Steve said.</p><p>And then Billy proceeded to flip the fuck out.</p><p>“Husband? My <em>husband?</em> I’m not fucking <em>gay!</em> You better quit this shit, right fucking now you motherfucker –”</p><p>“Billy, please.” Steve continued. “Sit down and wait for the doctor.” He pushed at Billy’s shoulders gently, despite the fact that Billy had so little strength he flopped back down anyways.</p><p>Even still, Billy’s head whipped every which way like a spooked horse. His heart monitor wasn’t budging.</p><p>Steve knew Billy acting; this wasn’t it.</p><p>Steve swallowed the wild, frantic terror pushing its way up his throat. An unfamiliar calm came over him.</p><p>Because more than anything in the mother fucking world Steve wanted to hug his husband, to go home and attach himself to Billy’s side and eat pizza and watch TV and spend a year in bed with him.</p><p>Billy had been unconscious for <em>twelve hours </em>and now he didn’t remember Steve. Didn’t remember their life. Their marriage.</p><p>They went to fucking <em>high-school</em> together. How much had Billy forgotten?</p><p>Despite that, Steve only had to take one look at Billy’s wide-eyed, white-faced panic.</p><p>Billy needed him right now.</p><p>“Mentally, he’s sixteen years old.” Dr Owens explained to Steve in the corridor. Steve stood, head bowed, arms around himself with his eyes closed because it was the only way he could process this information. “Those seem to be his most recent memories. He think he’s still at school. This will be a confusing and frightening time for you both, but the best thing you can do for your husband is to stay calm. Take him home. Take each day as it comes. Introduce him back into his life slowly, and let him call the shots.”</p><p>So, Steve did.</p><p>He took Billy home despite all the protests. He weathered the homophobic ranting and raving and the demands to be taken back to California right this fucking minute.</p><p>Steve asked Max to sleep over with them the first week; tried not to listen in to their furiously whispered conversations in the guest room Billy had taken up in.</p><p>Eventually Max had to go back home to her life and her job and her boyfriend. She steadfastly wouldn’t let Billy come with her because <em>according to Dr Owens, doing too much too fast won’t help you idiot, and this is already enough to wrap your head around. I’ll be back next week to check up. I’m doing this for you – yeah that’s right, asshole, because I love you, get used to it.</em></p><p>Billy was slow on his feet and he wouldn’t let Steve help him. He glared if Steve’s hand so much as twitched at his side.</p><p>He spent most of his time in the guest room. The few times Steve managed to catch a glimpse, he was reading or napping.</p><p>But after a disastrous first week where Billy avoided Steve at all costs, Billy began to actually settle in.</p><p>He took to his six-week rest period pretty happily and with little complaints. Actually, with a lot of TV, lifting weights in their basement, and the occasional outing for groceries. All the while complaining about the lack of parties and excitement in their hick little neighbourhood. As if he could do anything with a fucking probable concussion.</p><p>But one day, Steve caught Billy making a sandwich. There was a little sway to his hips as he buttered his bread, wolfed it down, and started on another. He moved with ease, familiarity, as if he spent a lot more time in there than he led Steve to believe.</p><p>Then Steve realised.</p><p><em>Sixteen</em>. Right. Neil.</p><p>Billy was happy to be here – even if he didn’t remember anything about why he apparently was.</p><p>That made Steve feel better. Made Steve feel as if the weight pressing down on him at Billy’s unhappiness was lifted away.</p><p>Billy was only putting on a front. He was only doing his usual act when he had his guard up and felt exposed. He was happy.</p><p>He was <em>safe</em>.</p><p>So Steve gave Billy his space. Didn’t ask questions, didn’t poke or prod. Let Billy do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, even if that was eight straight hours of a bad sit-com followed by silence where he retreated into his room.</p><p>Which takes them all the way up to right now.</p><p>Two weeks later. They move around each other like roommates, and Billy teases Steve for his gigantic gay crush on him now – if this morning is anything to go by.</p><p>It all comes to a head, of course.</p><p>Steve is coming out the shower and doesn’t notice Billy brushing his teeth. He steps out buck-naked and watches Billy choke around his toothbrush and spit out foam.</p><p>“You okay? Billy?” Steve leaned close, placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Are you good?”</p><p>“I.” Billy rasps, eyes squeezed shut, and then he throws his toothbrush in the sink. “Honestly, fuck you.”</p><p>He barges out before Steve can ask.</p><p>Steve needs to go to work, however, and doesn’t have the time to figure out Billy’s particular crisis this time.</p><p>He leaves Billy sat on the sofa, flicking through channels with a stiff jaw. He touches Billy’s head briefly as he passes, thoughtlessly. It’s an innocuous enough gesture, but one that makes Billy whip around with a graceless squawk.</p><p>Steve comes home to an empty living-room and a firmly shut door to the guestroom.</p><p>He eats dinner alone, but it barely bothers him at this point.</p><p>It only starts to when he remembers something funny that happened, opens his mouth to tell Billy, and sees the empty chairs all around the table.</p><p>He goes to bed early. An hour later, he’s still awake. He’s tossed and turned around every corner of the bed, and rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He should get up. Even just for some water. For some air. For something.</p><p>The bedroom door pushes itself open, a soft soundless noise like somebody is trying to be quiet.</p><p>Steve rolls onto his side to face it.</p><p>He finds Billy at the doorway, caught.</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d be awake.” Billy states, his voice clipped.</p><p>“You okay?” Steve asks, voice a little rough and scratchy. He squints. “You need anything?”</p><p>Billy pads on over to Steve’s bedside. He’s wearing long flannel pants and no shirt. His wedding band is still around his neck.</p><p>He doesn’t take it off to sleep. Steve is awash with fondness. Billy never took it off before all this either.</p><p>But then Billy sits down on the edge of Steve’s bed and crosses his arms.</p><p>“Alright, joke’s up.” Billy says.</p><p>Steve shuffles up to sit as well, blinks fuzzily at Billy. “Huh?”</p><p>“I admit it, alright.” Billy sneers, upper lip curled. “I like guys. <em>Sometimes</em>. You happy?”</p><p>Steve stares for a beat. “Okay. That’s good, Bill –”</p><p>“Now can <em>you</em> admit it?” Billy asks, and flexes his arms where they’re crossed as if prepping for a fight.</p><p>Steve blinks. “Admit what?”</p><p>Billy huffs. “Look, you’re clearly playing a joke on me. I guess we know each other in the future, maybe, or Max has set you up to this somehow. And it was funny. I thought it was funny. But you can stop it now.”</p><p>“Stop <em>what?”</em> Steve insists.</p><p>“Stop pretending that we’re together!” Billy shouts, throws an arm out. “That we’re married, and we have this whole thing with the house and the matching mugs and the every fucking thing!” His face is red hot even in the dark, seeping down his chest as he gestures around the room. “You got a kick out of it the first couple days, okay, but it’s over now.” He re-crosses his arms, his chin pointed out firmly.</p><p>“I’m not pretending.” Steve says, very slowly and very evenly. “I wouldn’t do that, even for a joke. That’s not me.”</p><p>Billy raises an eyebrow. “You seriously expect me to believe we’re married?”</p><p>“Why is it so hard to believe?” Steve huffs, too tired for patience anymore. He knew Billy was in denial, but this is getting freaking exhausting.</p><p>“Steve.” Billy says darkly. “You’re insanely hot but you’re also really sweet and you know how to cook and you have a swanky-ass job and are crazy amounts rich. Nice try. I have to hand it to Max.”</p><p>Steve stares dumbly.</p><p>“You don’t believe me because you seriously think I’m too – I’m too <em>good</em> for you?” He manages to rasp out.</p><p>This whole time Steve’s been assuming it’s because Billy is emotionally and mentally sixteen right now. Because of his denial, his disgust and self-hatred, his terror at being found out as gay, his assumption that Neil Hargrove is around every corner.</p><p>Not <strong><em>this.</em></strong></p><p>Billy crosses his arms again. “Yeah. I don’t believe you. You are <em>way</em> too out of my motherfucking league. I’m pretty sure Max just hired a model to fuck with me. Nobody looks that insane without getting paid for it. And you’re way too sweet, always caring ‘bout me and how I’m doing. You don’t even drop the act for a freaking second. Are you an actor as well?”</p><p>Steve stands up. “Billy, baby, <em>of course</em> –” He steps closer to Billy, but Billy jolts off the bed and a vehement step back.</p><p>“Hey.” Billy points a finger like a school teacher.</p><p>Steve stops, holds his hands up. “Okay. Okay not moving. I just.” He smiles softly, huffs out a gentle breath, curls his fists to resist reaching out. “I just wanted to say <em>of course</em> I’m not acting.” Steve feels the smile grow wider, split his cheeks apart. “Billy, we’re fuckin’ married cause we love each other, we make each other happy and we have for <em>six years</em>.” He laughs. “And if you let me show you the photos, you would see that, dumbass.”</p><p>The urge to just reach out and touch Billy is becoming unbearable at this point.</p><p>Billy stares at him for a beat.</p><p>“Can you just be honest?” Billy asks. There’s a hint of pleading to his voice. “There’s no fucking way this is real, come on. We both know as soon as I ask to see the photos, you’re gonna click your fingers with a ‘gothca’.” Billy mimes the action with a little finger-gun, and then clenches his jaw as if that wasn’t the dorkiest cutest thing he’s ever done.</p><p>“Billy –” Steve tries, helplessly in love.</p><p>“I goddamn <em>know</em> didn’t get this lucky, okay.” Billy states, voice hard. “I admit it. So just be real with me, man.”</p><p>Steve studies Billy’s face. His expression is open and vulnerable, but underneath it all is a little bit of hope. It shines like a light at the bottom of the ocean, barely visible. Barely even there.</p><p>Steve’s heart clenches in his chest. Billy doesn’t even realise how <em>open</em> he is, must have learnt barriers the year before he came to Hawkins because Steve sees right through him. He can physically <em>see</em> the honesty in Billy’s words.</p><p>Billy seriously thinks Steve is too good for him.</p><p>“Alright. What would it take for you to believe me?” Steve asks.</p><p>Billy looks at him for a beat. “Blow me.” He states.</p><p>Steve laughs, happy to find a little bit of that familiar Billy Hargrove spark still there, his tell-tale bite. But Billy does nothing.</p><p>“Oh, for real?” Steve asks, then wets his mouth unconsciously.</p><p>Billy tracks the movement, and his gaze darkens. “Yeah.”</p><p>Steve takes a step closer. He grins wide and a little wolfish. “Well, if that’s what it takes.” He whispers. “Not as if I haven’t missed it.”</p><p>He takes a hold of both Billy’s hips and yanks him close, relishes in the little stutter-gasp Billy lets out, rubs his thumbs over the bare skin of Billy’s sides and bends down to his knees.</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait.” Billy rushes.</p><p>Steve looks up.</p><p>Billy stares at him in shock.</p><p>“Steve.” And then he slides hands along Steve’s shoulders, reverent.</p><p>Anticipation coils tight in Steve’s gut, and he grins wickedly.</p><p>Only for Billy to put hands under his armpits and pull him up.</p><p>Steve comes easily, rises so that their faces are inches apart.</p><p>Billy is still staring in shock. “Seriously?” He murmurs, one hand moving from Steve’s shoulder to cup Steve’s cheek. The sensation is bliss after the lack of Billy’s hands on him for almost an entire month.</p><p>Steve smiles, pushes his shoulder up to trap Billy’s hand.</p><p>“I can kiss you?” Billy breathes, eyes searching Steve’s face.</p><p>In response, Steve leans in and presses their mouths together.</p><p>The feeling of Billy’s mouth under his lips is familiar and long-missed, but Billy jolts as if he’s been electrocuted.</p><p>He stiffens his entire body and goes still.</p><p>Steve slides his hands up Billy’s bare back and pulls him in, presses their fronts together and deepens the kiss. He opens his mouth and touches his tongue to Billy’s lips, his teeth, running it along the seam of his mouth.</p><p>It only takes a second for Steve to realise Billy is unresponsive.</p><p>He jerks back instantly.</p><p>Billy’s eyes are closed, mouth open, features slack.</p><p>“Billy?” Steve murmurs.</p><p>Billy does nothing.</p><p>“Billy –” Steve’s pulse quickens.</p><p>“I think ya broke me.” Billy interrupts with a whisper.</p><p>Steve chuckles fondly. “I’ve missed you so much.” He settles his arms more firmly around Billy in a proper embrace. “Missed talking to you. Missed holding you.” He brushes his mouth over Billy’s cheek, nuzzles into his neck and take a deep lungful of his smell.</p><p>Slowly, Steve pulls back.</p><p>Billy is exactly the same as he was a minute ago.</p><p>“Billy?” Steve tries again, reaches up both hands to feel the back of Billy’s skull where he knows the injury is.</p><p>“I’m good, I’m good, I’m good.” Billy babbles. “I just.” He clears his throat. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”</p><p>Steve pushes their noses together. “I never kissed anyone like that until you.”</p><p>Finally, Billy opens his eyes. “Okay, what the fuck? Did I die? Did I somehow get to heaven?”</p><p>Steve laughs. “What a line.”</p><p>“I’m so serious.” Billy adds. “You’re like every fuckin’ fantasy rolled in one.”</p><p>“Baby.” Steve runs a hand through Billy’s hair, and Billy’s eyelids flutter at that. “I’ll show you the photos. We can watch our wedding video together. This is real.” Steve lifts a hand and pulls at the wedding band that still rests around Billy’s neck, makes a fist and shows Billy the matching ring on his own wedding finger.</p><p>“How come I wear mine around my neck?” Billy asks, tilts his head.</p><p>“Because you prefer it there.” Steve tells him. “You work with your hands, so you were worried it would slip off.” He grins. “Plus you said its closer to your heart this way.”</p><p>Billy makes a face, his cheeks hot. “Damn, I’m cheesy.”</p><p>Steve laughs, bright and loving.</p><p>“What do I actually do?” Billy asks, curious.</p><p>“I’ll tell you next week.” Steve states. “Dr Owens said gradual re-introduction. I’ve only just got this back.” Steve strokes up and down Billy’s back.</p><p>“Okay.” Billy says. And then his hands slide from Steve’s shoulders around to hold him as well.</p><p>“Billy.” Steve says. “I know this has all been tough. I’m trying to live in your shoes every day. But if you can imagine my shoes for a second: my husband got into an accident, he was almost placed in a coma, and then he came around but when he did, he couldn’t remember me or our whole life together.”</p><p>Billy gazes at him. “That’s rough.”</p><p>“Yeah. So with that in mind, can I do something?”</p><p>Billy’s forehead creases, but he nods warily.</p><p>Steve had practically been trembling to control the urge, but now he does what he’s been dying to do the moment Billy opened his eyes.</p><p>He pulls Billy in and crushes him in a hug.</p><p>“I was so fucking scared. Never do that again.” Steve says fiercely into the side of Billy’s head, one hand going to the back of his skull protectively, the other around his middle and squeezing him for dear life.</p><p>Mercifully, Billy’s hands come around him too. It’s the embrace Steve has been fantasising about for weeks. Billy’s arms are strong and secure and <em>alive</em>.</p><p>“I love you. I love you.” Steve keeps saying, and there’s a wet heat on his shoulder where Billy’s face is pressed, but neither of them speak.</p><p>Eventually they move back onto the bed and lie down facing each other. They don’t discuss either of their bloodshot eyes or flushed faces.</p><p>Steve’s runs his hands up along Billy’s side and through his hair. In return, Billy touches tentative fingers to his chin, his nose, as if affirming his reality.</p><p>It makes Steve smile, though.</p><p>He closes his eyes and falls asleep in seconds.</p><p>Steve wakes up slowly. He’s too hot, and blinks a couple times before he’s able to properly see.</p><p>Billy is lying across from him. His eyes are open, gaze hard and focused on Steve’s face.</p><p>Steve beams, instantly warm, and shuffles on closer. “Hey baby.” He murmurs, nuzzles his face into Billy’s throat.</p><p>Billy doesn’t move. Then, quick as lightening, he jumps off the bed.</p><p>Steve whips up instantly. Until Billy bellows, as loud as his lungs will allow:</p><p>
  <em>“WOOHOO!” </em>
</p><p>He dances around the room, muscles flexed and fists clenched, bouncing on the spot like a five year old high on sugar. “Yeah baby! That’s what’s up! That’s what’s <em>up!” </em>He throws a fist to the air.</p><p>Steve laughs; laughs at nothing but the sheer joy Billy radiates out of him, like a tiny sun he’s somehow swallowed.</p><p>“This is real! This is the mother-fucking <em>future!”</em> Then Billy takes a running jump at the bed and almost knees Steve in the balls as he crawls over him, face bright and excited as it hovers over Steve’s, hands bracketing Steve’s head.</p><p>“Hey let’s do something. Let’s go surfing. Hey, let’s hire fucking <em>horses</em>. Imagine showing up to the beach on a horse– oh, let’s go to a steakhouse for breakfast, and order a bottle of champagne and drink the whole thing at like 10am.”</p><p>Billy’s eyes are shining, his teeth all exposed in his smile, fine lines creasing his eyes.</p><p>Steve just laughs, happier than he’s been in weeks. He feels light, weightless, whole. He reaches out and takes Billy’s face in his hands.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous. I love you.” Steve states.</p><p>But then something passes over Billy’s face at those words. Something tender and surprised. The fire fades. He flops down on top of Steve and settles into a comfortable position; Steve’s arms come around him in return.</p><p>“How do we get together?” Billy asks, face close to Steve’s.</p><p>Steve cocks a brow. “You sure you wanna know the story?”</p><p>Billy studies Steve for a beat, and then he nods.</p><p> “Well.” Steve states. “It was Prom, 1985.”</p><p>Billy’s mouth drops open. “That soon? That’s two years away.”</p><p>Steve doesn’t mention that it was twelve years ago.</p><p>“Yup. I didn’t have a date, and you had about six.” Steve carries on. “So I was watching you get drunk and dance the whole night. I was mostly feeling pretty shitty, because … I had a big fat crush on you.” He grins.</p><p>Billy’s face is glowing. His eyes shine as if this is best thing he’s ever heard. “Yeah?”</p><p>Steve nods. “Uh-huh. And we were sort of friends, but not really, because you were a little hot and cold with me. But then when the awards were getting announced, you climbed up onto the stage and grabbed the mic. You shouted, ‘Hey, Harrington, wanna get out of here?”</p><p>Billy stares.</p><p>Steve smiles at him. “You were really drunk. Everyone turned to look at me. But I was only looking at you, and you looked suddenly terrified, as if you had no clue why you just did that. So I smiled at you. Then you jumped off stage, ran over, and grabbed my hand.”</p><p>“What did you do?” Billy asks.</p><p>“We sprinted for our fucking lives.” Steve laughs. “You were gripping my hand so tight, but when we got through the school doors you just dropped it and stopped.”</p><p>“Why?” Billy asks.</p><p>Steve presses two fingers to Billy’s lips.</p><p>Billy shuts up.</p><p>“I turned to look at you and said, ‘So what’s the plan?’ I was laughing, I mean I was happy. But you looked uncomfortable. You bent over to breathe and you said something like, ‘We’re out now, aren’t we?’ So, here I was second-guessing everything and feeling all nervous. I started to feel like I had misunderstood everything, I remember my heart kinda sank, which was super lame. But then you said ‘Look, I’m pretty drunk, but I can’t just watch you sipping stupid punch in the corner all night. You should be Prom King.’ Then you paused and you said, a little quiet, ‘You should be at Prom with somebody cool.’ So, I took a step closer to you. I was like, ‘Somebody like you?’ And you scoffed, but you wouldn’t meet my eyes. So I reached into my blazer and pulled out this note I wrote as a joke. I wrote it before I left the house and took it with me, so I’d know I wasn’t a coward, just that you already had a date so there was no point in asking. It was really dumb.”</p><p>Steve paused, still embarrassed at himself even after all these years. Still fucking proud of himself too, because it led them to this.</p><p>Billy’s eyes are like lanterns. He waits.</p><p>“It said, <em>Billy, if you’re not my Prom date then nobody is</em>.” Steve admits. “I don’t know why I wrote it. I handed it to you, and I thought I was going to throw up. You took it and unfolded it and kinda stared at the words. Then you looked at me with these big eyes before you reached into your pants and pulled out some scrunched-up bit of paper.”</p><p>“What did it say?” Billy breathes.</p><p>Steve quietens him with a look. “<em>Well</em>. It was all balled up like someone had crushed it with a fist and shoved it in their pocket. It said, <em>Harrington, will you go to Prom with me?</em> It was scored out a couple times, and the sentence was kinda scribbled, but I could still read it.”</p><p>Billy stares.</p><p>“And I felt like I was floating in the damn sky. I broke out in a grin, and you laughed like a hyena before you pulled me in and kissed me. I kissed you back; we didn’t care if we got caught. And then I drove us up to the quarry, parked the car and blasted the radio from the Beemer so we could dance outside.”</p><p>Billy doesn’t speak for a beat. Then he asks, “You still have the note?”</p><p>“Keep it in my wallet.” Steve answers simply.</p><p>Billy’s eyes are clear and brilliant and a little unfocused, as though he can see it all right now. “I can’t wait to meet you.” He says eventually.</p><p>*</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>in a world where you are possible</em><br/>
<em>my love</em><br/>
<em>nothing can go wrong for us</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>- Extract from Frank O’Hara’s 1960 ‘Song’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>🌟🌟 If you enjoyed or have any thoughts, please give them to me! Or leave a kudos if you have nothing to say. I appreciate all and any feedback. And if you like my work, consider subscribing to my tiny user! 🌟🌟</p><p>Also, this story is mostly a mess, but YES I have plans to make the prom story a fic in and of itself. I basically want to centre it around the fact that Billy wrote about Steve for his entire yearbook profile. And it's canon.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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